Bus Stop
by Cecilia1204
Summary: Sandor Clegane sees the beautiful girl at his bus stop every afternoon. Will he ever actually speak to her?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hi again. Just a quick 2-shot based on the song 'Bus Stop' by The Hollies

* * *

 _Thank fuck today's over_ , thought Sandor as he trudged wearily to catch his bus home, pulling his regulation tie off and shoving it carelessly into his backpack. Fucking useless things with no function whatsoever other than to nearly strangle him and force him to do up the top button of shirts with collars that never seemed to fit properly around his neck.

Ties were made for poncy fuckers like Baelish and Joffrey, who had arms and necks like noodles and who probably had never seen the inside of a gym in their lives.

Not six-foot-six of solid muscle that was a product of both genetics and his stint in the Army maintained by regular workouts at the gym.

He didn't often miss the Army except on days like today, when it seemed as if every idiot who worked for the Bank of Westeros decided that their computers had a 'glitch', which he, as a member of the Bank's IT department, was obligated to investigate. Nine times out of ten, it was the worker's stupidity that was the issue. They had pressed 'F8' when they should have pressed 'F7' and subsequently took themselves to the wrong screen and then compounded the problem by randomly hitting keys that screwed things up even more.

Working with arseholes like that fucktard, Joffrey Baratheon, didn't help. How that dumbshit got a job in the IT department was beyond him. Sweeping the floors was more Joffrey's skill level. And if his supervisor, Petyr Baelish, sent one more smarmy smirk his way, Sandor would be tempted to smash Baelish's head right through the main server cabinet, consequences be damned.

At least the head of the department, Davos Seaworth, was a good guy. A former naval officer himself, he was stern but fair. Sandor enjoyed his company and usually sat with Davos on their break, swapping military stories. Also, Davos had his eye on Joffrey and the end was in sight. Fuck, all the procedures one had to go through just to fire a useless shit like Joffrey.

It would be good to get home, even if home was only a cold, silent apartment that was just a place to sleep, eat and watch TV.

Sandor was a loner. By both choice and circumstance.

The disfiguring scars on the right side of his face, given to him by his 'loving' older brother when he had pushed Sandor's face onto the burning of coals of a barbeque as a child, and the resulting unsuccessful attempts to 'repair' the damage, tended to keep people away. Combined with his huge stature, he was a terrifying sight for most.

After years of being treated like a freak, he had developed a thick outer shell to protect himself, becoming the 'monster' people saw him as. He was the first to scare people away now. He was the one in control. Except for a few, like Davos, all others were frightened off before they could reject him.

It was why the military had been a good choice for him. They didn't care what he looked like, only that he could take orders, was a good fighter and fortuitously for them, seemed to have a technical nous with computers and software that they used to their advantage. In return, he gained valuable skills, built a really handy nest-egg that had grown with the advice of Davos' partner, Stannis, an investment banker, and had gained a couple of good friends, the first he'd had in his life.

Unfortunately, the truck he'd been riding in had run over an unexploded IED in disputed territory in the region of Meereen, which had nearly cost him his leg and ended his military career. Luckily, skilled army surgeons had saved it, leaving him with a slight limp and an honourable discharge.

Working at the bank wasn't Sandor's ideal but it was something until he figured out what he really wanted to do with the rest of his life.

He turned the corner and faltered slightly.

There she was again. As she was most days, waiting for her bus.

The prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

Tall, blue-eyed, gorgeous auburn hair and a radiant smile that she seemed to flash at those around her, all politeness as she waited her turn to board the bus.

To all around except him. Not after that first time.

When she had smiled at him, despite her tiny start of surprise upon noticing his face. It had been enough for him to scowl nastily at her in return, her smile quickly disappearing as she stepped further away from him.

He felt like he'd kicked a puppy and she never smiled at him again.

And the world felt a little bit gloomier than it already did.

They caught the same bus, though she got off a couple of stops before him, where he sat towards the rear, while she generally sat near the front. He would watch her chat to whoever sat next to her, whether it was a little old man or a young child.

And he would wish, deep inside, where he hardly acknowledged that he still had a tender heart, that the auburn-haired beauty would smile at him again.

* * *

Another summer rainstorm.

At first it was a few drops but by the time he neared the bus stop, it was falling steadily. Whether it was due to the rain or some other reason, the only person waiting was the girl.

And she was getting drenched.

Didn't she know that summer in Kings Landing meant regular afternoon showers and storms? Why wouldn't she carry an umbrella?

She quickly glanced at him before turning away and he couldn't help the stupid pang of … something.

Sandor stood a few steps behind her and watched as the water soaked through her uniform, making her auburn hair turn a dark, wine red.

The heretofore unknown gentleman inside him wanted to help her out but his normal instinct to keep everyone at bay rose up strongly.

Then she shivered, the tremors clearly visible throughout her slim frame.

"Here, girl," he rasped, holding out his umbrella. It was the largest he could find. Those pokey little ones would be less than useless on someone his size.

She jumped at the sound of his voice and turned to look at him, eyes wide in her startled face, raindrops clinging to her lashes.

"Here. Take it," he insisted, holding out the umbrella.

"Oh! But, you'll get wet," she protested.

"I'll live. You look like you're about to drown." Sandor was beginning to regret the only kind gesture he could remember making in who knows how long. "Do you want it or not?"

"Th-thank you, sir," she stammered, gingerly reaching for the handle.

"Not a sir," he growled.

"I'm sorry," she replied warily. She looked up into his eyes and gave him a small smile. "I'll feel guilty if you get soaked because of me. How about we share it?"

Sandor looked at her in disbelief. This girl was willing to stand so close to him? Despite how he looked? "You serious?"

"Of course. Here, how about you hold it? You're so much taller than me. I'll just stand close to you. We'll still get wet but it's better than nothing."

Still shocked, he took the umbrella and held it over them both as she moved closer, her shoulder brushing his arm. Despite her wet clothes, he could feel the warmth of her and his heart raced.

"Thank you again Mr…?"

"Sandor. My name's Sandor."

"I'm Sansa." She reached her hand out, leaving him no choice but to take it. "Nice to meet you."

Sandor shook her hand and wondered if he was in some strange twilight zone to be standing so close to this gorgeous woman. Sansa. "Why don't you have an umbrella. Didn't you expect this? It's summer, after all."

Sansa grimaced slightly. "I'm from the north. There, it either rains, snows or on the odd day, is sunny. And it lasts the whole day. We don't get this mixed weather up there."

He grunted an acknowledgement.

"Will the rain last long, do you think?"

Sandor shrugged. "An hour or so, could be. Your first summer in KL then?"

"Yes. I only moved here a couple of months ago. Does it rain like this often?"

"It's the rainy season. Usually rains most afternoons. Then it gets fucking humid. Sorry," he muttered.

Sansa laughed softly. "Don't apologise. I have three brothers, a cousin and their friends. There's nothing I haven't heard. Actually, it's my sister that's the worst."

He grunted a laugh, surprising himself. Laughter and he didn't normally mix.

Their bus turned the corner and pulled up at the stop.

"Thank you for sharing your umbrella, Sandor. You're very kind."

Sandor just snorted. "No-one's ever called me that before."

"Well, you are. Oh, I can't wait to get out of this wet uniform."

Sandor held the umbrella open as she stepped inside the bus before closing it and getting in, trying to ignore the images her words conjured. As he paid his fare, he debated whether he should risk sitting near her but decided against it, instead nodding to her as he walked to his usual seat at the back.

When Sansa stood up to get off, she looked back at him smiling warmly and as the bus pulled away, she gave him a small wave.

And the world was slightly less gloomy.

* * *

To his utter surprise, and secret delight, Sansa would greet him with a smile each afternoon.

At first he was wary, mainly grunting a low 'hello', fully expecting her to turn away and ignore him but she didn't. She would chatter about inconsequential things until the bus pulled up and the conversation ended. Or her conversation, at least. He didn't contribute that much.

Sandor acted the arse he knew he was when, after a particularly trying day, he snapped at her, accusing her of chirping like a bird. "Do you chirp by rote?"

Sansa's face immediately fell and turned red. Murmuring a 'sorry for bothering you', she stepped away, standing right at the edge of the curb, her back to him.

Fucking idiot! He wanted to punch himself for the arsehole he was. It wasn't her fault a glitch in the system was blamed on him when it was that little prick, Joffrey's, doing. She was a bright spot in his otherwise bland existence and he had to go and insult her.

When she didn't smile or wave as she got off the bus, Sandor felt a tightness in his chest and spent the evening drinking and hating himself.

For the next couple of days, she didn't even look at him, instead conversing with whoever else happened to be at their stop. Sandor mourned the loss of her smile due to his own stupidity.

When the rain started falling the next day, Sandor opened his umbrella, took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding it over her before she had the chance to get her own. Sansa looked up warily, her eyes uncertain.

"Don't want you getting wet, Little Bird?" He gave her what passed as a smile, aware that it probably did nothing for his 'good looks'.

"I have an umbrella with me," protested Sansa.

"But mine's much bigger. Those pokey little things do fuck-all." Couldn't she see he was trying to apologise for his boorish behaviour?

"Little Bird?"

"Ah, on account of your chirping." Before she could get offended again he hastily added, "but, I like your chirping. I was in a shit mood that day."

Sansa seemed to realise what he was trying to say, without actually saying it, giving him a smile and, despite the rain, it felt like the sun had come out again.

When she waved at him as the bus drove off, he gave her a tiny wave back.

The world now had a hint of sunshine.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Here's the second and final chapter for you. Hope you enjoy it.**

* * *

The wait for the bus became the best part of Sandor's day. He had never been a clock-watcher, but now he kept looking at the time, eager to get away. If he got to the stop a little earlier, that gave him more precious minutes with Sansa. The few times he had to work back, no-one came near him.

She greeted him with a wide smile now which made him feel lighter than air. No-one, especially beautiful young women, ever smiled at him. It was as if his scars didn't seem to matter to her.

Some days he would get there before her, waiting anxiously to see her uniform-clad figure walking towards him.

Other days, it seemed as if she was waiting for him.

One afternoon, she pulled out a container from her large bag and handed him a slice of cake, carefully wrapped in grease-proof paper.

"What's this, Little Bird?" He wasn't really one for sweets.

"Try it," she insisted. "I made it last night."

He took a bite, Sansa's eager face searching his for his approval. It was a lemon-flavoured sponge and icing, with a layer of cream in the middle. It was good.

"So? Do you like it?"

Sandor nodded as he swallowed. "Yeah, Little Bird. Don't normally eat sweets but that was good."

Sansa beamed at him and he nearly choked on a cake crumb. She was just stunning. And not in a made-up, artificial way, though he had no doubt she would look like a model if she dressed up. She was sweet and wholesome and he was always thinking about her.

"Lemon cake is my favourite. I haven't made it since I've been in KL since there's too much for one person. I thought, if you like it, I can make it more often as I can share it with you."

He was taken aback and a lightness filled him at the realisation that she thought of him too. "If you're willing to make it, I'm willing to eat it, Little Bird."

That day, he decided to sit next to her on the bus, not wanting to end his time with her just yet. His size meant that he took up most of the seat, not that she said anything. Instead, she brightly chatted away during the ride, looking happy to have him there.

Having her pressed up against him set alight nerve endings he didn't even realise he had. It was pure, heavenly torture.

From that afternoon, he would sit next to her each afternoon, giving him nearly a good half hour in her company.

Sandor came to live for that half hour.

Their conversations, with Sansa mainly doing the talking, turned from the superficial chit-chat in their few minutes at the bus stop to more meaningful topics. The noise of the bus' engine helped drown out their voices, giving them a modicum of privacy from the other passengers. And if it required them to lean their heads towards each other to hear, Sandor wasn't complaining.

He learned about Sansa's job as a Diabetes Educator at the Kings Landing Regional Hospital. She worked in their Diabetes Clinic, which was why she kept regular hours, unlike other medical staff.

Sansa talked about her family in the North and how they were a prominent family in the area but her parents ensured all their children remained grounded and worked for their living, not relying on their parent's money.

Sandor, who had had to struggle for everything, found he respected her parents for their stance. There had to be a reason his Little Bird was the way she was.

His Little Bird.

She wasn't his, but he wanted her to be.

Every trip, he would try to get the words out to ask her if she would like to go out with him, maybe grab a coffee or something, but each time, the old familiar fear of rejection would strike him and he didn't say anything.

And he would kick himself for being a coward until he saw her again.

Instead, he told her about his experience in the army and his work at the bank, making her laugh at his portrayal of some of his co-workers. He didn't tell her how he got his scars and she didn't ask, though he knew she was curious.

Throughout the summer, Sansa continued bringing him lemon cakes, sometimes nearly a whole cake, insisting he take it home and enjoy it after dinner.

Other times, she would appear with shopping bags, having left work early and she would sometimes show him what she'd bought. Mostly they were knick knacks for her home, which Sandor had absolutely no knowledge or interest in, but if it made Sansa happy and had her smiling at him, he was glad to listen.

And when it rained, Sandor insisted on sharing his umbrella, even if she had her own.

The regulars at the bus stop became accustomed to seeing the two of them together and he wondered what they were thinking. To see this beautiful young woman talking to one such as he. He wasn't above scowling at some of the curious looks they garnered, enjoying the way they almost scuttled away.

When Sansa would notice this, she would give him a playful swat on the arm, which he barely felt, and tell him to be nice, giggling the whole time.

* * *

This afternoon, he watched Sansa trudge wearily to the bus stop instead of her usual sprightly gait. When she greeted him, her voice was subdued and he could see her eyes were a little puffy.

"What's wrong, Little Bird?" She was his sunshine and he didn't like seeing her distressed. "If someone's done something, I'll…"

"No, Sandor, no-one did anything. It's just something that happened at work today," she replied sadly.

"Want to talk about it?" The words came out before he could even think about it, surprising himself. He was not the type to talk about his feelings, much less listen to someone else's problems, but his Little Bird brought out a protective instinct in him. "We can…uh…grab a coffee, if you want. I'll see you home afterwards if you're worried about transport." His insecurities rose as he spoke, hammering in his brain. "No, of course you would want to be seen…"

His words were stopped by her hand, which she placed on his chest, her touch searing him, even through his shirt.

"Thank you, Sandor. I would really like to get it off my chest but I'm worried I'll start crying in public, so, would you mind terribly if we went back to my place? I…I can make us some dinner. I've usually got something I can throw together and I still have some left-over pie. That way, if I start crying there'll be no-one to see except you." His stunned face must have given her the wrong idea as she quickly back-tracked. "No, you wouldn't want…"

"Little Bird," he interrupted. She stopped abruptly. "I'll be glad for a home-cooked meal in return for lending my ear. I can't remember the last time I ate dinner that wasn't straight from the freezer or the local shop."

Sansa smiled up at him. "I'm only a few minutes from my stop. I really appreciate your kindness."

"I'm not kind, Little Bird. But you look upset and I…I…"

"Yes you are. Even if you won't admit it. I promise I won't tell anyone," she joked sweetly.

Sandor's gut was churning with a mix of nervousness and excitement as they rode the bus. He was going to spend time with Sansa. Alone. At her home.

The woman that the heart he had long thought frozen and shrivelled was falling in love with.

Getting off the bus with Sansa felt surreal. All these months he had watched her alight, taking his sunshine with her and now he was with her.

She took his arm and in something of a daze, he walked the distance to her apartment. When she let them inside, he was immediately struck by the difference between his apartment and hers.

His was just a place to sleep and eat. Sansa's was a home. Sandor recognised some of the items she'd purchased over the previous weeks – the throw rug on the lounge, the picture frame with what looked to be a picture of her family, the candles scattered around the room.

Sandor felt enveloped in warmth in her home and for the first time wished that he could have more than the cold, clinical apartment he lived in.

"Sorry for the mess," she threw back as she walked to the kitchen area.

What mess? As far as Sandor could see, it was spotless.

"Make yourself comfortable. I'll just get us something to drink. Tea? Coffee?"

"Coffee's fine, Little Bird. Black, no sugar."

Sansa chuckled softly. "How did I know you were going to say that?"

"Are you saying I'm predictable?" he growled jokingly.

"No, not at all, Sandor. But you do come across as the black coffee type. Here."

She handed him a bright blue mug and sat on the other end of the lounge, bending one leg onto the seat to face him and took a sip of her drink.

"So, why were you upset, Little Bird?"

Sansa sighed heavily. "I know I shouldn't get upset by my patients' issues but sometimes… There's this lovely man in his late forties who found out that he's losing both his lower legs due to diabetes complications. He came in to see me today and as he was telling me, he broke down. He's got two young children and he's worried about how he'll keep up with them as well the extra burden he's placing on his wife while he recovers and learns to walk with prosthetics."

"That's tough."

"Yeah. It's something I see a fair bit in my job but what got me so upset was the way he was regretting the decisions he made years ago with regards to his condition that he's paying for now. He was diagnosed in childhood and during his late teens and twenties, he rebelled against it, against testing his blood sugars, not taking his insulin, not watching what he ate, generally refusing to manage it. It was when he nearly lost his eyesight that he came to his senses, but the damage was already done. He was crying that his anger and bitterness towards his diabetes, thinking that if he ignored it, it would just go way, instead of accepting what he can't change and resolving to manage and live with it, has led to this. My heart just broke for him."

Sandor watched as she wiped a tear away and debated giving her a hug. Sandor couldn't remember the last time he'd hugged anyone.

Her story struck a chord with him.

Wasn't that what he'd done all his life? Raged at the world, his bitterness and anger at what his brother had done and how his father had covered it up, leading him to hate everyone. His treatment by others turning him into the supposed monster others assumed he was.

And where had that gotten him?

A lonely, sterile life with enough friends to fill half the fingers of his hand. Even those had had to battle through his walls to call themselves his friends.

Would he be like Sansa's patient, regretting the choices he made years earlier which would leave him with no-one? Would he die alone, not to be found for weeks because there was no-one to care whether he lived or died?

Yet, here he was, with this genuinely kind and soft-hearted woman who had befriended him in spite of himself.

Could he change the course of his life and maybe, just maybe, not end up a sad, lonely old man?

Terrified, but more terrified of the alternative if he didn't take a chance, he reached over and placed an arm over her shoulders and gently pulled her to him, simply aiming to give her comfort.

Sansa started, glancing at him and Sandor began recoiling, words of apology on his lips but she pressed into him, her arm wrapping around his torso as if to hold him in place.

Without volition, Sandor's other arm stole around her and they sat in silence, both of them seeking solace from the other.

In all his gods-forsaken life, Sandor could never remember feeling such a sense of peace. He had meant to give her comfort – instead, she was giving him the comfort and succour he didn't know he'd needed so desperately.

How long they sat there, Sandor would never know but Sansa finally pulled back and smiled at him, her blue eyes shining. Without warning, she reached up and kissed him, right on his scarred cheek, as if it was nothing, as if it wasn't the source of so many horrified looks, so many taunts, so much physical and emotional pain.

"Thank you, Sandor." Squeezing his hand, she sat back. "I feel so much better now. I haven't had such a good hug since I left home. I should get us some dinner like I promised."

"Ah…yeah…um." Never eloquent at the best of times, Sandor couldn't get anything intelligible out of his mouth.

With a sweet giggle, Sansa got up and proceeded to produce the best meal he'd had in years out of seemingly nothing, chattering all the while.

Sandor would never have believed that listening to her talk wouldn't have driven him to madness, but it didn't. He enjoyed watching and listening to her. Her brightness lit the dark places within himself.

Sansa was the sunshine in his overcast, dismal life.

When it was time to leave, reassuring her that he would be fine to walk the few blocks to his home, pointing out that he was probably the scariest thing out there, he enjoyed the hug she gave him at the door. He felt he could get addicted to her hugs.

Walking slowly down the stairs, he kept thinking about how he wished he'd kissed her goodbye. Sansa had watched him with what seemed to be longing, not closing the door until he turned the corner.

Foot on the final step, Sandor took a deep breath, turned around and raced back up the stairs, two at a time, until he reached her door, knocking firmly.

The door opened immediately, Sansa looking at him with a mix of surprise and relief. "Sandor? Did you forget…"

Before he could change his mind, Sandor cupped her cheek, bent down and kissed her, a bolt of electricity surging through him at the feel of her sweet lips.

With a sigh of pleasure, Sansa wrapped her arms around his waist and kissed him back. He hadn't had many kisses in his life, but this was the best one ever.

Standing at her door, lost in each other's arms, they kissed for what seemed to Sandor to be forever. He knew right then that he needed this, needed his Little Bird in his life.

A minute, a day, a month or a lifetime later, they pulled apart.

"Goodnight, Little Bird," he whispered.

"Goodnight, Sandor," she sighed dreamily.

"See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. I think it might rain tomorrow," she informed him with a knowing grin.

"I hope so, Little Bird. My umbrella will keep us dry."

Wind, rain or sun, umbrella or no, they both looked forward to their afternoons at their favourite bus stop.

* * *

Meetings at the bus stop quickly became dates and outings together.

They went from meeting each afternoon to spending every spare moment together.

By the end of summer, the two of them were an official couple, much to Sandor's secret disbelief.

They came to know everything about each other, including how Sandor got his scars. Sansa told him all about her family and made plans to take him north to meet them, much to Sandor's consternation. He was certain that it would all be over once he met her parents and they convinced the Little Bird that she was crazy to be with someone like him.

It didn't happen. Despite initial misgivings at his appearance, her parents accepted Sansa's choice and he found himself actually enjoying her father, Ned's, company.

With Sansa's encouragement, Sandor quit working at the bank and formed his own internet security company, contracting his services out. It was hard work but he credited any success he had to Sansa's support.

And he loved his Little Bird with everything in him. Knowing she loved him just as fiercely, eased the pain of the crap things that had happened in his life. They were in the past, what mattered was now.

Sansa and their life together.

He'd never known love could feel this way. The first time they made love, Sandor cried with so many mixed emotions. Sansa simply held him through the storm, not needing any explanations. She knew. She knew his soul, the dark parts of it and she lit them up with her love.

Now, here they were, two years later, standing in the garden of her family's home, Winterfell, saying their vows to each other.

And if any of the guests were puzzled as to why the wedding cake was topped by two figures huddled under an umbrella at a bus stop, the bride and bridegroom's loving gazes and smiles at each other told the story.


End file.
